


Two-Hundred and Forty-Seven; These Months, Our Ruin

by newyorktopaloalto



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Emotional Constipation, Getting Together, Living Together, M/M, Pining, Post-Avengers (2012)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-05-20 01:57:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19367818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/newyorktopaloalto/pseuds/newyorktopaloalto
Summary: It takes only one conversation with Tony Stark for Bruce to want to hold onto him with both hands and never let go. Agreeing to move in did not, in any manner whatsoever, make that desire abate.[When falling in love can only be measured in months.]





	Two-Hundred and Forty-Seven; These Months, Our Ruin

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Molly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Molly/gifts).



> Disclaimer: All rights belong to Marvel/Disney. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy the fic - thank you for reading!

_Month One_

If Bruce hadn’t been used to people sneaking up on him, he might not have noticed Tony sulking in the doorway to the lab he had bestowed upon Bruce with a flourish and a wink a week after the battle in New York. 

“What can I help you with?” he asked, sliding out his chair from the workbench as he slid his goggles up onto his forehead. He stood up, resisting the urge to fidget - it had been a month since Tony had offered him a living space, and while Bruce knew he wasn’t going to suddenly demand something from him in return, he still couldn’t help the discomfort he felt as a moon in Tony’s tight, circuitous orbit. 

As time went on, however, Bruce had to admit that it was becoming less about that and more about -

“Nothing much, just admiring you in your element. It’s a good look, I gotta say.” 

More about the things Tony said to him. 

Tony grinned as though what he had said was the easiest thing in the world - and maybe for him, it was. Despite trying to temper himself, Bruce felt a tell-tale heat on the bridge of his nose from thinking too hard about whether or not Tony meant the things he said. 

“No, but seriously - I’m having a little trouble with something and I think you might be able to help me out.” He paused, then, and shrugged in conjunction with a nonchalant grin. “If you’re busy though, I get it - science stops for no one, after all.” 

It was an obvious out, and one that Bruce was sure Tony wasn’t quite used to giving to a person other than himself; there was something to be said about being given the option, about being able to make his own time his own - choosing what he did and when he did it - that Bruce couldn’t help but want to grab onto with both hands.

And so he nodded. 

“I have to watch this,” he said, unable to let himself leave Tony without some modicum of a reasonable explanation - even to himself, it sounded insubstantial. 

He saw Tony grimace before locking his expression away, and knew that he, too, saw straight through Bruce’s Swiss-cheese alibi. 

“Yeah, of course,” Tony agreed, nodding along to Bruce’s apology before waving it, wholesale, away with a single gesture. He smiled again, but Bruce thought he saw an edge of something sharper winding its way through. 

Bruce must have been an idiot, his PhDs nothing more than happenstance and a series of lucky flukes, because that was the only reason he would say no to another offer of Tony Stark’s friendship. Discomfort be damned - the world was settling into a new age, and it was about time to settle himself into one as well. 

“Just let J know if there’s a time when--”

“Actually, don’t worry,” Bruce interrupted, “nothing should happen for a while.” 

“Okay.” It was half of a question, and Bruce shrugged. 

“What’s the problem you’re having?” he asked, ignoring the twist in his gut as he watched Tony bite at the corner of his cheeks, while a pleased smile still managed to make itself known. 

Because that was most definitely the sort of thing best to leave well enough alone and - if it got too overwhelming - placed in a small box labeled ‘do not open’ in the corner of his mind. Or something equally as drastic, Bruce was leaving the logistics until it came down to it.

* * *

_Month Three_

“Do you like Thai?”

Tony nodded, only looking up at Bruce for a brief moment before turning his attention back to the tablet he was holding. 

“Why?” he asked after a moment, as though Bruce had somehow forgotten that he was able to read and hold a conversation at the same time - Bruce didn’t dissuade Tony of his notions, however, more comfortable with that than with Tony knowing he was mostly just trying to stop himself from admiring the lines that the bespoke suit made on his body. 

“I know you’ve been buried in paperwork, so I picked up some.” 

Tony stopped reading and narrowed his eyes over Bruce, looking critically at the takeout bags Bruce was holding up; without a word, Bruce turned the bag so Tony could see the name. 

“Oh, Bruce,” he said, dropping his tablet with a thump on his desk as he made grabbing motions with his hands. “You’re amazing, you know that? A true beauty in these dark times.” 

“I’m sure,” Bruce agreed dryly, rolling his eyes, while all the while resisting the urge to ask Tony to say more nice things about him. 

“What’d you get?”

“Our usual, of course. Like I would risk anything else.”

Tony rolled his eyes at the reminder of his not quite hidden disappointment when Bruce had shown up with dinner from his favorite place with an entirely different fare than Tony had perfected to his personal taste. He had eaten it dutifully, but Bruce could tell that it wasn’t quite the same to him. 

“Now let’s go and eat at a table, yeah?” Bruce asked rhetorically, already backing his way out of the room, eyebrow raised as he waited for Tony to follow him. 

“Gonna make me respectable?” As though Tony hadn’t been to more high society soirees in a year than Bruce had in almost his entire life. “What would you do if I wanted to eat at my desk like a heathen?” 

“I’d think that it’s at least better than your work table - you’re probably ingesting more motor oil than anything else as of right now.” 

“That’s DUM-E’s fault,” Tony said, following Bruce into the elevator. The doors didn’t close - Bruce wondered, keeping half an eye on Tony through the mirrored ceiling as he twitched every now and again, if for some reason JARVIS was messing with Tony for some reason - before Tony asked, “Yours or mine?” 

“I’m sorry?” For a moment Bruce’s mind went blank, forgetting about everything except the offer that Tony had apparently just made of him. It had come out of virtually nowhere, and while Bruce knew he wouldn’t say no, he didn’t quite understand just how willing he would be to say yes. 

He clenched his fist and felt a plastic handle digging onto the flesh of his skin - the Thai food would get cold soon...

The Thai food. 

Tony tilted his head in mild question, but he was sucking in his lips as though he had known exactly where Bruce’s mind had immediately flown to - it wasn’t as embarrassing as Bruce had expected it to be. 

“Mine’s a little more lived in,” Bruce said, thinking of the barely used appliances in Tony’s kitchen the few times that they had eaten there. “Plus, I have some notes from my new project that I think you’d like to take a look out.” 

“You’re so archaic,” Tony replied, but he bumped Bruce’s shoulder with his own as he grinned. 

“If a pen and paper makes me so, then I’ll just have to accept it,” Bruce said, shaking his head in a tired parody of long-suffering. 

“Nah - you’re able to make it endearing.” 

Bruce resolutely did not look at Tony as he said, “Like you and your unnecessary holograms.” 

The elevator door opened to Bruce’s rooms before Tony was able to reply - Bruce was stupidly grateful for JARVIS in that moment, though he was quite sure that the AI hadn’t done anything in particular to make the elevator choose that exact second to save him from himself. And if, out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw Tony flush? Well, it was probably Bruce’s own mind working against him.

* * *

_Month Four_

Bruce breathed out sharply through his nose, unable to tear his gaze from the footage playing out on the screen in front of him. 

“You should leave,” he said to Tony, tensing up as he leaned over Bruce’s shoulder to better see what was on the news. 

“I don’t think I should,” Tony replied, grimacing as the newscaster narrated over shaky b-roll footage. 

“I’m not very - this isn’t a good time, Tony.” 

“Do you want to go to the open floor?” 

Bruce shook his head and said, “I just need to calm down.” 

Tony’s body was warm against his side, barely brushing Bruce’s clothes with his own, but it was just enough contact for him to feel Tony’s presence. It shouldn’t have helped him calm down, but as he focused on the slow breaths against his arm, Bruce couldn’t help but match Tony’s equanimity. 

“Thanks.” 

They had been standing there for a few minutes, the news turning into a vaguely amusing insurance commercial, before Bruce was able to speak. 

“That’s what I’m here for,” Tony said in reply, bringing his hand up to tap Bruce’s shoulder lightly. 

Bruce was barely able to stop himself from leaning into the touch, clutching desperately to trap Tony’s against his own while he attempted to match their heart rates.

* * *

_Month Four, cont._

“So... How long you've been drinking?” 

Tony sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, before he gestured for Bruce to sit - the bourbon in his glass barely moved at his action. 

“Since I got back,” Tony said, turning his head on the couch to face Bruce as he sat down. 

“That bad?” Bruce asked unnecessarily, grasping at Tony’s upper arm in what he hoped to be a comforting motion. 

Despite Bruce’s obvious awkwardness it must have done something, because Tony gave him a tight smile before draining the rest of his glass. 

“It was like watching a Justin Hammer demonstration with _It’s A Small World_ playing on loop as backing soundtrack.” 

Bruce winced. 

“I _know_ ,” Tony said, obviously having seen Bruce’s motion. “But who am I except to do as Pepper wills?” 

“Yeah,” Bruce replied in the silence of Tony’s rhetorical question. He ignored Tony’s amused ‘tch’ and reminded himself that he was happy to be friends - more than happy, because at some point in the last few months Tony had become the person Bruce was closest to, and there was nothing in the world that would make him give that up. 

Especially nothing as inconvenient as a tangled mass of feelings for an unattainable person that even Bruce, himself couldn’t parse through half the time. 

“Do you want to get some food?”

“I’m sorry?” Bruce asked, focusing in on Tony - he wasn’t looking at Bruce, gaze slightly above and to the right of his shoulder. Something in Tony’s stilted grin made Bruce uneasy, stomach coiling and throat tight. 

“Dinner? I’m absolutely starved and haven’t been to a restaurant in awhile.” 

In a better mood - maybe one where he hadn’t just been painfully reminded of the fact that Tony was not something negotiable for him to have - Bruce would have replied with a shrugged, ‘it’s a date.’ 

“Maybe not tonight,” Bruce said instead, trying - failing - to not notice how Tony’s smile weakened. It didn’t mean anything more than that he was disappointed that they wouldn’t gavotte about the city. 

“Delivery?” 

But honestly, Bruce was just a man - how could he say no to that?

* * *

_Month Six_

There was a knock on the door to his lab. Bruce, elbow-deep in sifting through the pile of data that his latest experiment accrued, gave a distracted ‘yeah?’ as he thumbed through his notebook. 

“Hey, Bruce, long time no see.” 

Tony stood slouched in the doorway, sunglasses perched on his head and a couple of buttons on his white shirt undone. He grinned at Bruce, who barely managed to restrain himself from actually groaning at the sight Tony made against the frame - it was almost indecent, and Bruce fought down a small thrill of arousal. 

“It’s been a week,” Bruce said, not quite knowing how he managed to get the sentence out at all. “I thought you were staying another couple of days.” 

“Pepper’s staying another week,” Tony replied, “but the expo ended last night. I’ve no reason to be in Italy - she won’t tell me the name of her new paramour, so I can’t imagine her having me meet him.

“What’ve you been up to, then?” he continued, as though he hadn’t just single-handedly given Bruce an aneurysm from what he had just said. 

“Just - the same.” Bruce gestured vaguely towards his files and Tony nodded as though he had just said something incredibly wise; impressed with the fact that he had sounded coherent, if a little off-putting, Bruce stood up from his chair and made his way to where Tony was still standing against the door frame. 

“How was the expo?” 

“Fine,” Tony said, shrugging a little before pitching himself off of the door with a roll of his shoulder. 

Bruce tried not to freeze at the easy motion, focusing his gaze on where Tony had stuffed his hands into his pockets. Tony’s, ‘There were a few promising up-and-comers,’ was almost completely drowned out by his own circling thoughts. 

Because… He hadn’t been - this was entirely new information. 

This was a situation that Bruce might be able to do something about.

* * *

_Month Seven_

This was nowhere near a situation that Bruce could do something about. 

It took him a month of starting something, freezing, and resorting to their old, friendly intimacy for Bruce to finally give up the ghost - Tony had been acting much the same, as though Bruce hadn’t been absolutely bizarre for the past month, and while Bruce could appreciate Tony’s aim to keep things normal, he knew that Tony knew that something was up with him. 

The thing was - he hadn’t let himself think about his crush on Tony as anything more than that, because he thought he might be able to contain it as a small, inconsequential thing. Until it wasn’t. Until it couldn’t be, because there was now a minuscule chance that Tony might feel that same twist in his chest - that same thrill when they were in the lab, hours gone by, countless experiments, conversations over dinner that lasted for days, put on pause until the next time they were able to focus on the more mundane side of their lives. 

There was a small chance, but Bruce could hardly imagine himself taking it. A relationship with Tony would do neither of them well, anyway... And as long as he continued to tell himself that, Bruce could ignore the nagging ‘what if’s’ that fell into his head every time Tony looked at him, expression soft, all wild gestures and talking a mile a minute. 

* * *

_Month Eight_

“I’ve been thinking…” 

Bruce had to push his glasses up from where they had settled - low on his nose - with a knuckle before he could properly see Tony. He was already sprawled out on the extra chair in Bruce’s lab, dark circles under his eyes and somehow still looking unreasonably tense. 

“That’s never a good sign,” Bruce said, and Tony threw him a nasty look before it turned into an exasperated fondness that Bruce could not help but notice the increase of in the last couple of months. 

“I need to retrofit my lab - it’s long past overdue and I actually have some free time coming up.” Bruce snorted and Tony amended his statement with, “Barring whatever emergencies will inevitably pop up. Because crime, you know…” He trailed off and shrugged. 

“Doesn’t stop?” 

Tony grimaced. “I was trying to think of something a little less banal, but yeah, basically.

“Anyway,” he continued, glowering at Bruce as though he were somehow at fault for the digression - Bruce would feel offended, but he knew how long the two of them could go on, only remembering whatever original point they had hours later, “J and I’ve decided that it’s easier to scrap the whole floor and put it in the one below.” 

“Okay,” Bruce said, hoping his tone conveyed the fact that he was completely clueless as to where Tony was going with this. 

“Bruce, you’re great, but I don’t need the commentary.” Tony patted his arm consolingly, a snidely sympathetic expression writ easily on his face. Bruce made an obvious show of rolling his eyes in response. 

If being in love with someone meant still liking them even when they were absolutely irritating, then Bruce must have been head over heels for Tony. The revelation didn’t come as quite a surprise to Bruce as he had expected it to be - he had been thinking that love, after everything that had happened between them, was the only thing that made any sort of sense. 

“And you know how basically half of our lab is always in the other’s anyway?” The question was rhetorical, but Bruce couldn’t help but nod at Tony in agreement, the back of his neck starting to heat up as he realized where this was most likely to be going. 

“You need a bigger space - and don’t give me that look, you know you do.” Bruce put whatever look he might have had on his face away, and Tony nodded as though he had done him an actual favor instead of simply schooling his expression into something more manageable for their conversation. By Tony’s slightly nervous grin, Bruce didn’t think he was doing as well as he had hoped. 

“So I was wondering if -” 

“Yeah,” Bruce said, interrupting Tony before the man could give himself an apoplexy. “It’s a good idea - you’re right. I’m assuming that we’ll keep this one for whatever needs containment or specific conditions?” 

“That’s exactly what I was thinking - I knew there was a reason people like to call you a genius.” 

“My powers of deduction? Hardly likely.” He paused. “And people don’t call me a genius much - anymore, I mean. Which I get, considering.” 

“Bullshit.” The words were hard, almost steel, and when he looked up, Tony’s eyes were narrowed - he didn’t have to warn Bruce not to look away from him, because Bruce wouldn’t have been able to do anything of the sort. Tony was angry, and it was beautifully incandescent. “You can throw whatever pity part you want for yourself, I get it, but you’re the best damn thing that’s happened to me in years. Just - know _that_.” 

It took awhile for Bruce to actually answer - stunned by the oblique confession that Tony had barreled through like he did everything else - and when he did, it was nothing at all like what he had wanted to say, had been on the tip of his tongue to say, and something that would most likely haunt him as being one of the most idiotic things to say in response to something as obvious as Tony’s declaration of love: 

“I - thank you, Tony. You’re my best friend, you know that, right?” 

Bruce looked down as Tony grinned at him, sharp, before his hands slapped down on his thighs and he said, “Okay, sap fest over - I’m going to start on renovation plans. I’ll send you the prints when I’m done and you can tell me what you think.” 

“Sounds good,” Bruce said, unable to stop himself from watching as Tony stood up, proud and stolid - Bruce had never really noticed how much nervous energy Tony had until it was reigned into a shaking in his hands that Tony managed to mostly hide by stuffing them into his pockets. 

When Bruce looked up, Tony was already looking at him. They both pretended that Bruce had seen nothing, that Tony had not given away everything. 

“My empty calendar doesn’t start until next week, maybe the one after.” 

“Okay,” Bruce said, knowing that Tony was lying, knowing that he shouldn’t feel so cut up about not seeing Tony for a week or two because it was his own fault that Tony was going to go and lick his wounds when he had done absolutely nothing other than - 

Other than have the sort of bravery to bring what had been obvious to the both of them to the forefront of a conversation - out in the open, where there was no hiding away except in the careful ways the words had never actually been said. 

And Bruce was a fool. 

Tony walked out of Bruce’s lab after giving him a nod - they both knew that another smile from Tony would be even less convincing than the last - not quite jogging, but close enough to it that Bruce was certain that he had destroyed the tentative thing that Tony had just tried to make definite.

* * *

_Month Eight, cont._

The thing was - Bruce wouldn’t know what he would do if it ended; it was better for them to never start.

* * *

_Month Eight, cont._

But there was a dull ache in his chest from the time he woke up in the morning until the time he managed to fall asleep for the few hours before dawn, so - maybe they had already been in the middle.

* * *

_Month Eight, cont._

Tony’s presence lingered wherever Bruce went - he had not noticed how entwined their lives had become: not until he reached for Tony’s usual mug placed neatly in Bruce’s kitchen, only to realize that Tony wasn’t there to drink it; not until he tripped over one of Tony’s ties that had been half hidden underneath his coffee table; not until the only thing he could think about was how Tony wasn’t there, wasn’t anywhere close, and had not contacted him at all. 

It was _not_ better that Bruce had never given them the chance. And though he couldn’t imagine Tony giving him the time of day after Bruce had basically dismissed everything that they had been building themselves toward, he deserved to know how Bruce really felt about him.

* * *

_Month Nine_

It was in the waning hours of the two weeks that Tony had hedged his bets on when he knocked on the door to Bruce’s lab. 

“I’m sorry,” Bruce said, unable to look away from Tony, who looked - overwrought in some ways, but nowhere close to the pile of miserable hangover that Bruce had been half afraid he would be presented with. 

“I know,” Tony said, a smile that was heartfelt and sad and just the slightest bit desperate, and before Bruce could say anything - could make his body move to hug Tony, claw at the back of his shirt in order to get as close to him as possible, tell him that whatever he was thinking was wrong, that Bruce had been half in love with him since the moment they had met - Tony continued with, “the lab’s going to take awhile - a few months, maybe.” 

He sucked his teeth before saying, “I’ll keep you updated,” and Bruce understood the end of his statement to be: ‘but I don’t know how long it’ll take me to get over you.’ 

And then he walked away, but Bruce still couldn’t make himself move from his ineptitude, from his locked-in position behind his desk.

* * *

_Month Nine, cont._

He knocked on the door to Tony’s personal rooms almost exactly an hour after Tony had left his lab. 

“Yeah?” Tony asked wearily, arms crossed over his chest as he resolutely did not look at anything other than his left shoulder. 

“I’m an asshole,” Bruce said, taking a step closer to Tony and reaching out to place his hand on his shoulder. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I was being a coward.” 

Tony searched his face for a few moments before he nodded and slowly brought his hand up to cover Bruce’s. He didn’t say anything, however, and Bruce was grateful for the uninterrupted time to get the last of his thoughts in a semblance of order. 

“Tony, I want to…” He swallowed back a fit of nervous laughter and almost bit his tongue as Tony took a small step forward, their chests almost touching as they stood in the doorway of Tony’s rooms. “Can I cook you dinner sometime?” 

“You already do that,” Tony pointed out, obviously not willing to give Bruce a single inch - which Bruce felt he deserved, really, considering what he had put Tony through. 

“Not like this,” Bruce said. “I want to cook for you, watch a movie, go to bed, and then wake up - with you.” 

He didn’t understand how it had taken him so long to say that, considering that once he had started, it was like he couldn’t stop everything from pouring out of his mouth - lay himself bare and open for Tony because _how could he not_? 

“I want to be in the lab and have you kiss me until I go somewhere with you, and I want to do the same for you. I want to go out to dinner, come back here barely able to keep our hands off each other and stumble into a bedroom where I can slowly strip you down, kissing and licking every part of you as I expose it. I want everything that you’ll give me, and then I’ll beg you until you give me more - until I can have all of you and I can burrow into your body the way you’ve done to my mind.

“I would never be able to forget you, because you’ve burned yourself into me without even knowing it.” 

Tony’s mouth was slightly open and Bruce watched his chest stutter in a breath, only blowing heavily out through his nose when Bruce didn’t say anything for a long time. 

“You can’t just say things like that, what the fuck, Bruce, are you trying to kill me? You can't say...” Bruce watched, eyes dark, as Tony swallowed - his Adam’s apple bobbed a bit, and Bruce was hard-pressed not to fit his mouth over it to see what kind of noise Tony would make. 

“But I did.” 

“You did.” 

They were silent for a moment, Bruce squeezing Tony’s shoulder tightly and Tony’s hand gripping his own with just as much force, before Tony said, “I wouldn’t have said anything. Not after -”

“I know,” Bruce interrupted. “I knew that it was going to have to be me.” 

“I knew that I wasn’t wrong.” With anyone else, it would have been a non-sequitur, but Bruce knew how to interpret Tony’s leaps of thought the same way he knew how to interpret the various strings of complex data that his experiments usually resulted in. “But I also knew that I was playing with fire when I said what I did - you weren’t ready, and I lost the gamble.” 

“To mix metaphors,” Bruce said, his hastily applied casual flirting - trying to get back to some sort of normalcy, no matter how different every word seemed compared to when the two of them were nothing more than barely suppressed touches and lingering glances that caused shivers - the only thing keeping back the volley of ‘I’m sorry’s' that had started to choke him. 

Bruce, while never happier to be on the end of Tony’s unimpressed stare, couldn’t help thinking what it would be like for him to kiss the expression away, share breaths until Tony was nothing more than dazed and halfway to losing himself. 

And though it might not have been the most apropos of moments to lean in for their first kiss, Bruce felt as though no other time would suit them better; it was the final move to a long game of chess, a looping series of checks in a game he was more than happy to keep playing. 

Tony’s index finger interrupted his journey, and Bruce frowned a little bit as Tony backed away a step - not enough for the distance to ache, but enough that the residual warmth from Tony’s body no longer flowed through their clothing and into Bruce’s chest. 

“Make me dinner,” Tony said, trepidation in his eyes but the teasing smile still all-too distractingly real for Bruce to do anything more than blink stupidly at him. “Make me dinner, we’ll watch a movie, you'll walk me back up to my rooms, and then - after seconds that feel like hours, mapping out the curves of your neck as your lips ghost across my face - we kiss. I want the anticipation, being close enough that it almost hurts, but holding back because it’s all the sweeter if you do. I want the both of us so keyed up that a kiss is all we need, because it’s _electric_.” 

“Tomorrow,” Bruce promised, but Tony shook his head. 

“Wednesday.” 

Bruce, knowing he would be unable to deny Tony anything he asked for in these next moments, simply nodded, half-hard and fully mesmerized from the mental picture. 

“You like the wait.” 

“Sometimes - when I know it’s coming.” 

The plan only took a few seconds to form in Bruce’s mind, and he decided to enact it before his brain told him it was an idiotic idea. 

“I can learn to like a wait,” Bruce said, stepping in close to Tony once more to nose up the side of his neck - Tony shivered and, when Bruce let out a puff of breath against where his lips had feathered against Tony’s carotid artery, bared his neck a little as his breath caught on a sharp inhale. 

Bruce stepped away then, barely able to ignore Tony’s flushed face, his chest pushing against Bruce’s own as they breathed and his erection pressed against Bruce's leg where they had subconsciously moved into one another at some point during Bruce’s newly enacted - but apparently successful - seduction. 

“I want to whisper everything I adore about you against your skin, but I’ve come to realize that it would take me three full-body run downs for me to finish my list, and by that time I’m sure I’d have already found more things to add. I want to be able to wake up at two am, open my eyes, and see you next to me in bed - I want to kiss you awake to let you know that I’m thinking of you and willing to risk your annoyance to remind you, just so that you never forget. I want you to hold me through everything I’m afraid of, and I want to hold you through everything you pretend not to be. I want to map out your body, cover it with my own and be covered in turn. 

“I want to wait, because what’s a wait when it’ll be the last we have?” 

Tony blinked, reaching up to grip his fingers at the hair at the nape of Bruce’s neck and let out a ragged breath. “I don’t know why you were afraid. I mean - Jesus Christ, Bruce, if I weren’t already full-gone for you…” 

He trailed off and shook his head. After a few moments of the almost painful grip they had on one another, Tony finally moved back to place a lingering kiss on Bruce’s forehead. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, the lascivious wink he threw Bruce undermined by the prominent flush that had taken residence on his neck. 

“Tomorrow,” Bruce parroted hoarsely - by Tony’s grin, he took it for the promise that it was.

* * *

_Month Nine, cont._

“Was it really that easy for you?” Bruce asked, making sure that they were walking close enough to one another that their hands brushed at every step. They stopped at Tony’s door and Bruce explained what he meant in the face of Tony’s confusion. “Forgiving me this quickly.” 

“Yeah.” Tony’s answer, while not immediate, was resolute. “It was easier than a lot of things I’ve done lately - easier than walking away from you was, that’s for damn sure.” 

“Good fortune for me, then,” Bruce said, wrapping one of his arms around Tony’s waist to pull him close to his body; Tony mirrored his movement, his hand searing against the small of Bruce’s back - his pinky finger teased the edge of Bruce’s slacks before hooking into his belt loop. 

“For the both of us.” 

Bruce hummed his agreement, preoccupied with brushing his lips against the skin under Tony’s eyes, the sharp line of where his beard met his cheek, his jawline, the space below his ears. 

“I wasn’t expecting you to -” Tony started, pressing his thigh between Bruce’s legs as Bruce slipped a brush of a kiss at the corner of his mouth, “- to actually take what I said into…” 

The rest of Tony’s statement died on his tongue as Bruce pulled their hips together and planted Tony against the door-frame. Unreasonably annoyed that Tony was still managing coherent thought when it took all of Bruce’s hard-earned willpower to not drop to his knees and suck Tony absolutely dry - to get a taste of him, to finally do more than fantasize about how Tony looked in the seconds before he unraveled completely - he brushed the side of his nose against Tony’s, letting himself breathe against his lips as he stared, gaze slightly unfocused, into Tony’s eyes. 

It was only when Tony’s breath hitched, hips shifting restlessly against Bruce’s own, the half-hearted tugging of his hands on the back of Bruce’s neck turning into an almost painful grip - but motionless now, waiting - that Bruce kissed him. 

The tease of Tony’s lips against his own lasted only a few seconds before Tony’s mouth opened and he started to suck on Bruce’s lower lip. Which was - absolutely more than okay, and Bruce’s dreams about this was nothing compared to the reality of actually being in the middle of it. Because Tony’s mouth was a fucking revelation, unyielding in its exploration - firm, but still sweet enough to make the hair on Bruce's arms stand on end from the press and the ache. 

Bruce pulled away before he wouldn’t be able to, but was unable to stop himself from eagerly accepting the slow burn that coiled in his chest as Tony followed Bruce back in order to kiss him again. A quick slide of Tony’s tongue against the seam of his lips had Bruce almost panting; instead of deepening the kiss, however, Tony bit down on the meaty part of Bruce’s lower lip, soothing it away with another quick flick of his tongue as Bruce’s mind went off-line, reduced to a desperate inhale through his nose like oxygen was a precious commodity. 

“So?” Tony asked as he pulled away once more. 

Bruce, who had followed Tony's head as he pulled back - if he didn’t get to lick into his mouth soon, Bruce might actually die because the small taste that he had managed to get would be maddening if he couldn't follow it up with more- blinked a little, unfocused, at the question. 

“What?”

Tony grinned before pressing his mouth against the pulse point at the underside of Bruce’s jaw, wet and hot as his tongue laved at Bruce’s skin after a thoroughly open-mouthed exploration. 

“How was the kiss?” Tony reiterated, the reverberation of his low words seeping into Bruce’s bones. 

“Ask me when I’m able to think,” Bruce said, running one of his hands up Tony's spine, slow and dragging, until it tangled in Tony’s hair; he pulled Tony away from his neck with a slight tug, a little mesmerized by the cool air against his skin, by the way that Tony licked his lips as though the sweat from Bruce’s skin was something worth tasting again, by the newness of every one of Tony’s motions and Bruce’s desire to see it become second-nature to the both of them. 

The kiss, this time, was soft - a brush of lips against his own that made Bruce's breath punch out of him. He was inordinately pleased to note that by the time they pulled away from one another Tony seemed a little out of breath and a lot like he would be dealing with the same problem as Bruce would be once he got back to his room. 

“Thank you for letting me cook for you,” Bruce said, resisting the long-held urge to trail his fingers up and down the side of Tony’s neck. 

And then Tony’s hand made its way down to settle on his ass, and Bruce realized that he didn’t have to stop himself from doing much of anything. 

“It was my pleasure,” Tony replied, his teasing belied by the involuntary shudder he let out when Bruce’s fingers started their memorization of his neck. 

“Do you want to go to breakfast?” Tony asked, gaze dark and settling deep into Bruce. “We’ll wake up early and go to that bakery you like.” 

“Sounds good,” Bruce said. “How’s eight sound?” 

“Yeah.” 

They stared at each other for a moment - and Bruce knew that they should break apart, that if they didn’t do it soon, it was unlikely to ever happen - before Tony finally nodded and tapped his fingers against Bruce’s lips, breaking away from their embrace in the same fluid motion. 

“Good night, Bruce,” he said, taking a step back and into the now open doorway. In the brighter light, the flush on Tony’s cheeks became almost searing, the fullness of his lips that could have only come from Bruce’s own pressing against them, hair and suit disheveled, a slightly wild gleam in his eye - Bruce was sure he looked much the same and wondered if Tony found it as possessively pleasing as Bruce did. 

“Yeah.” Bruce paused and licked his lips. “We should make it seven-thirty, though.”

“Might take us some time to get out of here,” Tony agreed, grinning at Bruce as though whatever thoughts he might have had were very much similar to Bruce’s own intentions. 

“Good night, Tony.” 

And while walking away was difficult, it was the sweetest ache Bruce could ever hope to experience - Tony watching him as he made his way to the elevator, thoughts of Tony’s body pressed against his own, the scratches from his beard starting to burn against Bruce's cheeks, ‘tomorrow’ echoing in his mind.

* * *

_Month One_

Bruce, hunched over at his work table as he attempted to make heads or tails of his own handwriting, was startled out of his focus by a pair of arms wrapping themselves around his shoulders from behind. 

“You’re back early,” Bruce said, leaning his head back into Tony’s stomach so he could look up at him. 

“The meeting went smoother than any of us expected. And why would I stay in Colorado with a bunch of assholes for an entirely insipid dinner when I could come back here and see you?” 

“Sap.” It was mildly accusing but Tony only grinned, waggling his eyebrows a bit, before bending down to give Bruce what might have been one of the most awkwardly placed kisses of his life - Bruce leaned into it for a few moments, before pushing Tony away so he could stand up, pressing their bodies together in a motion they fell into with the easy grace for having done the same more times than Bruce could care enough to count. 

“You love it,” Tony said, hooking his fingers into Bruce’s belt loops tightly - as though Bruce would willingly let him go until forced to. 

“I tolerate it.” It was a lie and they both knew it. 

“I watched you for a little while.” It wasn’t any sort of revelatory confession, but Bruce blushed anyway. “Seeing you in your element - it’s beyond the scope, you know?” 

He did know - he thought much the same every time he saw Tony working. 

“It’s also really hot.” 

Bruce rolled his eyes, but assisted Tony in unbuttoning his shirt. It fell to the floor and a few seconds later Tony’s shirt unceremoniously joined it. 

“I missed this,” Tony said, raking his fingers through Bruce’s chest hair before bending down to suck on Bruce’s nipple. Bruce settled his hands onto Tony's shoulders, massaging them for a while as he let the little flicks of pleasure from Tony's mouth spark into his bones. 

“Me too.” He kept Tony’s mouth pressed to his chest as he walked backwards, managing to find his chair and sit down before he finally let go. 

Tony's eyes were dark and Bruce snarled a little as he wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand. 

"Bruce," Tony said, wriggling forward and bending down so he was nose-to-nose with Bruce, planting a small kiss on his lips before he stood up, laughing as he pulled up and away once more. Bruce knew he was being a tease on purpose, knew that Tony liked to see him get worked up until they were nothing but hot hands and heavy words - and who was Bruce to deny him that? Not when it benefited the both of them. 

“I need you,” he said, pulling Tony forward enough so he could nose at his cock, sliding down the tented fabric with an open mouth. Finding the head of Tony's cock was easy and he sucked on the fabric covering it, imagining he could feel the salt of Tony's precum against his tongue. 

“Jesus, Bruce - yeah, yeah, okay.” 

Tony tore Bruce’s mouth away from him and planted himself on his lap - he widened his legs so Tony could settle his hips neatly against Bruce’s own, chests plastered together as they dry humped like a couple of damn teenagers. 

“What do you want?” Tony asked, scratching down Bruce’s chest until he had to lean back, muscles taut, to get to Bruce’s stomach. His work as Iron Man did Tony multiple favors, the least of which was the delicious line where his hip bones met his stomach muscles and Bruce actually felt himself salivate as he surged forward to bite at it - their precarious balance only maintained by the desk Tony was leaned into .

“This,” Bruce said after pulling away, urging Tony down by his neck to kiss him, his free hand scrabbling for the button of his slacks. 

“Okay,” Tony mumbled against his lips, his moan caught in Bruce’s mouth when he palmed Tony through the fabric of his briefs after he finally managed to get the zipper down. “Let me…” 

His hands made quick work of Bruce’s pants, reaching under his boxer-briefs to pull out his cock with a satisfied hum. Tony stroked him for a little while, pressing teasing kisses and nips against Bruce’s neck, his shoulders, his chest, as he took the little dribbles of Bruce’s precum to make his grip just a little rough, the exact sort of friction burn that Bruce went to pieces for. His hand twisted on every upstroke, thumb dipping to gather more of Bruce's precum before it could pool onto his hand. 

“Yeah,” Bruce moaned, pushing his hips up into Tony’s grip for a few moments - just enough to get him on the edge of desperate, but far away enough from actually getting off that a little waiting wouldn’t do him amiss - before he took Tony’s hand away and brought it to his mouth, sucking away whatever sweat and precum had accumulated on his fingers. 

“Fuck, Bruce,” Tony said, licking his lips as he slid his fingers in and out of Bruce’s mouth. After a few elongated moments, Tony’s cock pushing up against his own, the scratch of his clothing against Bruce making him moan against Tony’s spit slick fingers. 

Bruce pulled Tony’s fingers out of his mouth, then, wrist tight in Bruce’s grip as he trailed Tony’s hand until it rested against his neck, and said, “I want to suck you off until you’re on the edge, and then I want us to come together.” 

“That’s not going to take much and you know it,” Tony said, sneering a little even as he continued the slow thrust of his hips against Bruce’s own - Bruce knew perfectly well, after all, that Tony had a thing for his fingers in Bruce's mouth and was more than happy to exploit that kink whenever he wanted Tony in a particular way. 

“Then you’ll just have to wait,” Bruce teased, stroking lightly down Tony’s stomach before shoving his briefs down - Tony’s cock sprang up against his stomach and Bruce licked his lips, carefully considering the benefits of actually blowing Tony as opposed to giving in and giving them both the quick release they needed. 

“No,” Tony disagreed, taking the decision out of Bruce's hand and licking his hand as he pressed their cocks together. Bruce got the idea quickly enough and licked his own hand - between the both of them they created a fast rhythm, too keyed up for anything more than a half-desperate rut, faces pressed against one another in what was more panting against each other’s mouths than anything that could resemble a kiss. 

Bruce bit at Tony’s chin, his ‘yes, just like that’ hardly audible over Tony’s harsh gasps, his own litany of half-forgotten talk, and the slick slip slide of the two of them getting closer to the edge. He started flicking his wrist at every upwards motion - Bruce’s hand being on top of Tony’s meant that Tony had no choice but to follow his lead, grip twisting against the heads of their cocks, fingers collecting their mingled precum for the downward strokes. 

“Fuck me,” Tony said, a fractured moan stuck in his throat as he hooked one of his legs behind the chair to get better leverage, and Bruce watched him as he tilted his head back, chest splotched red from arousal - he sucked a kiss into Tony’s neck, knowing that it would undoubtedly be bruised in the morning and while Tony would grouse at him, he would end up pressing his fingers against it for most of the day. 

“Maybe next time,” Bruce replied, a tight heat coiling in his gut as soon as Tony started to tug at his chest hair - it was deliberate, almost in time with the grip on their cocks, and Bruce's hips stuttered a little as Tony played his body like a fiddle. 

“Maybe,” Tony echoed, scraping his teeth against Bruce’s Adam’s apple, every now and again flicking out his tongue in a soothing tease. 

Bruce groaned and said, “The damn things you do to me, Tony,” which only made Tony huff out a breath of laughter; Bruce squeezed down on their cocks, tightening his grip, and the laughter petered out into a hiss. His eyes followed a drop of sweat - hyper aware of every one of Tony’s movements as they hurtled themselves towards orgasm - from Tony’s temple make its way down the side of his face, against his neck, and into the dip of his collarbone. 

“I’m close,” Tony said, nosing his way back up to Bruce’s cheek as he panted against his skin . 

“Yeah.” Bruce could hear it in the hitching breaths against his ear, the clench-release-clench of Tony’s thighs on the outside of his own, the way he started to mouth pleading words against Bruce’s skin in between sloppy kisses. He was close too - but that always seemed so secondary when simply seeing Tony in the throes of passion could almost send him completely over the edge. 

“Come with me, Bruce, please, I want to feel us come together - know you love it too, so c’mon, yeah?” 

“Okay,” Bruce said, gasping out a ‘Jesus Christ’ as Tony sped up their fists, grinding his hips down into Bruce’s for the extra friction as their cocks slid against one another. 

“Please come for me, I need you to, I’m so fucking close Bruce - I need you to come.” 

And it was hard for Bruce to deny Tony anything that he wanted, and if it was something that Bruce was aching for, that Tony was pleading against his mouth for as Bruce was barely clinging onto the edge? Well, it only took a few more pumps of their fists for Bruce to feel the building heat in his stomach. 

“Tony -” he warned, the rest of his sentence catching in the back of his throat as Tony nodded against his cheek. 

“Me too - just -”

He kissed Bruce, a lot of teeth, whispers against his lips as he stole the air from Bruce’s lungs. 

“Bruce,” Tony hissed out, and Bruce watched him as his hips stuttered, eyes wide before they were forced closed under the pressure of his orgasm. “Bruce, Bruce, Bruce, oh my God.” 

His hand stopped, just for a moment, before Bruce picked up the slack and stroked the both of them through Tony’s orgasm. 

Tony opened his eyes, then, and -voice hoarse as though he had been screaming rather than muttering a mantra of Bruce’s name - said, “Bruce, please.” 

And that, like every other time he and Tony had been together, was enough to do Bruce in as well. 

“Fuck.” 

He closed his eyes, mind blanking as stars, colors swept against his eyelids, and dimly felt Tony kissing him through it - small, closed-mouth kisses that grounded Bruce through the cooling of their cum, fingers slick as they continued stroking against one another. Tony hissed after a few minutes, breaking his fingers away in the over-stimulation. 

“I really missed you,” Bruce said, leaning forward to press his lips to Tony’s forehead. 

“I missed you too.” He moved to nuzzle his nose behind Bruce’s ear. “Now - what were you working on that got you so distracted?” 

Bruce sighed. “Trying to read my own handwriting,” he said, knowing Tony was going to make fun of him. 

Like everything involving Tony, however, it would be worth it.


End file.
